


Man's Tomb

by kolibris



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Come Kink, Curses, Dubious Consent, Loud Sex, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 08:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12767385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kolibris/pseuds/kolibris
Summary: Akira and Ryuji find erotic fanfiction about themselves and anger an ancient pharaoh. These two things are related.





	Man's Tomb

**Author's Note:**

> My other idea for a plot backdrop while writing Hot In This Hell of Mine was a fujoshi curse in Futaba’s Palace. “Nahhhhh,” I said, “that’s way too fucking stupid, even for me.” Well, here I am!! 
> 
> Also, your daily reminder that the [DDS1 soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLBZdVZUA-s) is Very Good.

Akira lifts his face out of sand for what feels like the hundredth time today. 

There’s nothing graceful about the sad way he rolls down the rest of the dune, climbing to his feet once he’s slowed to a stop, but Ryuji is the only one with him now and he doesn’t have to impress him with his theatrics anymore.

“More freakin’ trapdoors…” Ryuji groans, picking sand out of every crevice of his pants. “My ass is gonna break in half if this keeps up…”

“Seriously.” Akira looks up at the ceiling into the yawning dark hole they plummeted through, but he sees nothing, hears nothing, and he grumbles from how much harder his life has gotten right at this very moment. “I can’t even tell how far we fell. We might not be seeing everyone for awhile.”

“Not the first time we’ve gone solo dolo though, right? We’ll be okay.”

“I hope they’ll be okay too.” They should be – they have Morgana, and Morgana has the map, and the map hopefully has some clue to wherever the hell this place is located. Deep in the basement, probably.

If Inui wants to lecture on Egypt ever again, Akira’s decided that he’s just going to sleep right through it. If they ever get out of here, that is.

They meander along the long hall, thankfully quiet and empty save for the thin waterfalls of sand and narrow archways lining it. He’s committed to ignoring each small room they pass by until Ryuji beelines right into one, and he follows out of obligation and a small bit of curiosity. “Oooh, check out this coffin!”

“Sarcophagus,” Akira corrects.

“Whatever it’s called, man. But seriously, ain’t it totally suspicious?”

It kind of is. The pyramid has been full of them, crumbling and dusty and packed with the occasional nasty surprise inside, but the sarcophagus in front of them is pristine gleaming gold, inlaid with veins of red and white. Just the right thing to house an even more terrifying Shadow ready to murder anyone stupid enough to look inside, which is why they should walk away now and leave it alone.

“Let’s open it,” Ryuji says.

“Okay, humor me, what do you _really_ think’s gonna be in there?”

Like Ryuji’s eager grin can get chased off by a little pushback. “Some sweet-ass treasure, probably?”

Akira just shakes his head and motions him on, because they don’t have time to waste dicking around with treasure that may or may not exist. As he goes to head back out, though, he hears a sharp, gritting sound behind him – he turns around to see Ryuji’s already shoving the lid almost half off. With a sigh, Akira comes back to help him heave it off the rest of the way. 

Inside are rolls upon rolls of old parchment, unceremoniously piled together. Okay, Akira can’t help it; he’s a little disappointed by the reveal. When he looks over at Ryuji ruffling his hair, it’s a good guess that he’s feeling the same way.

“Geez… there’s nothin’ in here? Way to get my hopes up.” Ryuji starts to dig his hands through the rolls, tossing a couple out that get in his way, but his frown gets deeper the longer he searches. “Nothing at the bottom, either.”

Still, this isn’t a complete bust. Clearly something deep inside of Futaba is very wounded; they’ve heard it in whispered voices, seen it blazoned across looming panels, this pain that grips her heart tight. If Akira’s going to close in enough on Futaba to steal her Treasure, he needs to learn everything he can about her, and he’d bet these scrolls aren’t just for show. He plucks one off the top of the pile and unfurls it between his hands. There’s writing on it, like he suspected, but he can’t even begin to guess at the content.

He skims over it, and quickly realizes: he sees his name.

That freaks Akira out a little bit, but then he remembers – she can listen in on Leblanc, she can read his texts – of course Futaba knows his name. With those hacking abilities of hers, the better and more upsetting question is, what _doesn’t_ she know about him? The scroll even reads like a detailed retelling of his activities, describing a day working with Sojiro in Leblanc, washing the dishes and serving curry, and Akira tries to recall exactly when that must’ve been. It’s surreal and more than a little disconcerting reading about himself like this, a moment of his life secretly captured with him none the wiser.

He reads on: “ _But after Sojiro left for the night, there was always one more customer that came in: Ryuji Sakamoto._ ”

Akira raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t remember that.

“ _‘Ryuji-kun!’ Akira said with a smile. ‘You’re late tonight. I was waiting for you.’_ ”

He definitely doesn’t remember that either. He sighs, a little weight taken off his shoulders. That’s what he gets for taking anything in a Palace seriously, like these papers couldn’t possibly be as distorted as the rest of it. If this isn’t some kind of… activity log, though, then what is it? His eyes jump down through the text, searching for anything else useful—

" _‘Take me, Ryuji-kun!” Akira cries out as Ryuji puts his throbbing hardness deep inside him—_ "

Akira drops the parchment like it burns.

“You okay?” Ryuji asks, and Akira can’t even answer that, only wildly shaking his head, so Ryuji curiously picks it up and reads until his eyes look like they could pop straight through his mask. “WHAT THE SHIT!” 

He quickly grabs for another one to read, and Akira does too, because that must’ve just been a fluke – oh god, he’s doing _what_ to Ryuji’s mouth? Oh god, oh _god_ – and now Ryuji’s hollering while throwing scrolls around left and right, and Akira wishes it really could’ve been a monster in here instead. He reaches for one more—

And pale feet dangle in front of his face. He jolts backwards and looks up at Futaba’s Shadow, hung up in the air and staring back at him with shining golden eyes.

“Put it back.”

“The—” Akira looks down at the paper he’s holding and offers it up, “—this? You mean this?”

“Put it back! Put it back!” she shrieks, and he does, practically throwing it at the pile of scrolls in his haste. The Shadow doesn’t look appeased, though, narrowing her eyes enough to throw the harsh shadows askew across her face. “You said you were going to steal my Treasure. Not this. This wasn’t part of the deal.”

“We’ve been _tryin’!_ ” Ryuji yells out in exasperation. “But what the hell is this crap?!”

“That’s none of your concern,” she says. “I’ll say this only once, robbers: misfortune will plague those who steal my scrolls.”

“We’re not stealing anything,” Akira says. “I put it back, just like you asked.”

“No you didn’t!” she shouts, and a sudden, heavy pulse emanates through the air that makes Akira’s hands shoot up for his skull. He takes one step back, instinctively, and his head pounds with the motion, and when he stumbles back again he feels a hot rush too, washing down his body until it pools all the way down in his—

He gasps hard. “What the—ugh, what did you do—”

“I’ll curse you,” the Shadow says, but wait, isn’t that just what she’s already done? Because there’s something dark clouding Akira’s brain now, and when he moves it grows, and the unexpected stirring he’s got in his pants grows too. Was that really her idea of a warning to him? Her face twists up like it was another thing she didn’t mean to do, but before Akira can ask, she rapidly fades out of view. “Put it back and it’ll go away,” her voice continues, until that disappears too.

Akira looks over at Ryuji. He’s also clutching at his head with a great wincing face; well, guess that makes two of them in this mess. There’s a crumpled scroll still fisted tight in his hand.

“Skull. The scroll…” Akira vaguely gestures at the sarcophagus. “Throw it in already.”

It lands on the pile near the one from before, and Akira notes that the heaviness weighing down on him has gone absolutely nowhere. “Now what?”

“Oh, goddamnit,” Akira says in dawning understanding, “she’s not talking about just one, we need to put them all back.”

“ _All_ of ‘em?” They look all around the room, the floor littered with papers. “Oh. Uh oh.”

Akira wants to run for them, but he can’t, so he tries to power through what he can as he limps along and snatches up scrolls. He goes for each one can see but it’s beyond frustrating, with his brain fuzzing up and his cock throbbing for attention, and every movement makes it worse. “Oh my god! How many of them did you throw out?”

“Man, I don’t know! Wait, there’s another one—” Ryuji scrambles to reach for it before buckling over, a strangled gasp escaping his mouth, “—oh holy shit, what _is_ this?”

“It’s a _curse_ , Skull.”

“Yeah, no shit! I mean why’s it—why am I—gah, never mind!”

It’s completely crazy, is what it is. Akira had underestimated her for not being immediately homicidal but she was still a Shadow like the rest of them, capable of anything, and her twisting the whims of his body around her little finger only proves it. 

The reasoning behind her particular choices, though, _that_ he can’t explain. Akira was never the kind of guy who… he doesn’t get all that wet when he’s hard, not really, but now it’s like someone’s turned on a faucet inside of him. He’s leaking so much more than normal and he can feel it, too, his cock sliding against a patch made slick and damp in his pants as he limps around. It feels like that wet spot might be pretty obvious to see on the outside. Akira doesn’t want to look down to check.

Moving around too much quickly becomes an unbearably bad idea, so he and Ryuji settle for free throwing the scrolls they find back inside the sarcophagus, cursing whenever one bounces off the edge from their increasingly shitty aim. Akira won’t blame it on his absence from sports clubs; no, he could do it if only he’d stop getting so completely distracted. He just needs to have his dick inside something – some _one_ – and Ryuji looks more and more like an attractive candidate with every step Akira takes, the cloud settling heavier in his mind.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ryuji bites out, but he’s the one who won’t stop staring at Akira’s dick, or maybe his ass, and Akira throbs at the thought of Ryuji coming over to pin him down and getting his cock in first. God, this is messed up.

“Just clean up over there and I’ll get this side,” Akira says, and Ryuji hobbles away to another scroll. There, getting some distance between them helps. For good measure, Akira reaches down and rubs himself through his slacks – real quick, just to take the edge off.

“Don’t do that either!”

“Then _you_ stop looking! Jesus!” 

Akira hits the ground on his hands and knees to search around the sarcophagus, peering under the tipped lid to grab one scroll rolled underneath. Up close like this, it’s far easier to see its finer details. His eyes have already long glazed over all the garbage wingdings that pass for hieroglyphics in this place, but now that he’s really looking at the lid, he can’t believe how he missed the ’R-18’ inscribed countless times across the surface.

“Why are we so dumb?” Akira asks out loud.

Ryuji just groans out some kind of agreement, because he’s too busy being waylaid by his own predicament, sunken to the floor and folded half in on himself. 

Akira stands up – stumbles – gives up and crawls over to help Ryuji get the scrolls on his side; his head is swimming by the time he makes it there, and being back in Ryuji’s general vicinity makes it even worse. And he’s having trouble focusing on the scrolls he can still reach for because he can’t stop watching Ryuji and his bowed-over form, his flushed face beading sweat at his brow, his hands squeezing tight on his thighs to keep them from travelling any higher—

Shit, Akira has to scrape his hand back down his leg hard, because immediately touching himself to this is probably the least helpful thing he can do right now. Really, he should help Ryuji out and touch him instead—or he can just _get the goddamn scrolls already_ , his delirious brain tries to interject—but Ryuji’s still hunched over and he’s still panting short, hot breaths into his knees, and then Akira’s hoisting him up by his shoulders and tipping him back, revealing the straining erection he’s trying so hard to hide.

“Oh no,” Ryuji says when he looks at Akira’s face, and somewhere Akira’s mind is echoing that same sentiment one million billion times over, and then it’s forgotten as soon as they press up tight and hungry against each other. Akira swipes Ryuji’s mask away to the floor and Ryuji tries to mutter, “No, no, man, don’t—oh, _shit_ —” before he melts into Akira’s desperate kiss with a moan and why did it even take them this long?

It just makes sense. Slotted into Ryuji’s lap like this, all Akira needs is one hand to unzip himself, the other steadied on Ryuji’s shoulder, and then he’s free to let his flushed dick rub up against him as much as he wants.

Ryuji snakes a hand between them and blindly bumps around his dick. “ _Joker_ ,” he breathes between a gap of their mouths, his name sounding suspiciously excited, and why the fuck is Ryuji touching him with those stupid gloves on, there’s too many layers, too many clothes—

And then Ryuji’s fumbling himself out of his pants and he’s slick the whole way down too, and he grabs their cocks together in one hand, squeezing them together in a slippery mess. Ryuji’s rhythm is clumsy but that’s okay, because so is Akira’s, rocking his hips off-time against Ryuji’s dick, against _skin_ , and the heat there and on his mouth is so powerful it’s dizzying. Akira attacks his lips even fiercer, until the force of it leans them over right into the ground.

Ryuji pulls back first. “Joker... come on, let me…” he trails off, too distracted from trying to worm his hand down the back of Akira’s slacks, fingers splaying into the cleft of his ass.

“You wanna…?” and Akira grinds up against Ryuji harder, because he’s sure thinking about it.

“Yeah,” Ryuji moans, like they even have a choice.

Akira yanks Ryuji’s belt looser so he can shove everything down to around his thighs. Ryuji groans from the freedom and the fresh contact of his skin against Akira, but it quickly turns into a noise of confusion as Akira roughly rolls him onto his side and grabs onto his hips. Like Akira honestly even knows what to do here, but there’s a hole, and he’s hard, and he just needs to get himself in it.

Ryuji yelps the moment Akira nudges his cock near his asshole. “Whoa—hold up, why me? Why’s it gotta be me?”

“You’re the one who…” his cock slips around too easily until he finally steadies it at the head, trying to roll his hips forward, and he can see Ryuji’s twitch hard from his insistent pressing, “who opened this stupid thing… in the first place…”

“No, wait, I want—I wanna be the one to— _fuuuuuuuck_ , ahh, _Akiraaaaa!_ ” and Akira’s in, buried to the root in two forceful thrusts. He obscenely bows over Ryuji, already starting to move quick and desperate while Ryuji loses his goddamn mind underneath him.

“Shut up!” Akira sharply whispers, “Skull, shut up!” because everyone else must still be looking for them and god help them if this is how they’re found, but Ryuji is screaming his name as Akira drives his hips into him and _oh_ , it turns him on even more. He wants to fuck Ryuji hoarse.

He doesn’t even have to think about it. It’s so easy to just surrender to the hot feeling, to fall into the primal rhythm he makes with Ryuji, and Ryuji cries out so loud it drowns out anything else in his brain that could protest. It’s perfect— _Ryuji_ is perfect, so tight and hot around his dick—and Akira struggles to remember there’s a _curse_ here, this curse is what’s making him fuck his best friend, but if this is what sex is like then maybe he wants to fuck him like this every single day. 

“ _Ryuji_ ,” Akira just moans, and everything else that he was thinking doesn’t quite follow it out of his mouth, only gasping breaths because he’s close, close, close— 

“Akira,” Ryuji begs, rutting backwards against him. “Come on, _fuck_ , feels so good—”

And Akira can only agree with a gasp because he’s coming hard, everything flying apart at the seams because it’s the longest orgasm he’s ever had. He’s powerless, riding each wave as it gets pulled from deep inside of him, until it feels like his vision might black out. Then it all rushes back in bright and too colorful, the darkness blown away by sweet, refreshing clarity.

He finally remembers that he’s sandwiching Ryuji into the ground, still writhing and panting, and the moment Akira peels himself off some, Ryuji’s hand goes straight down for his dick. Akira hesitates, then follows his hand underneath him too and gives him several quick strokes— “Yeah, yeah, _yeah_ ,” Ryuji cries— and then he’s coming with a full shudder, spilling all over Akira’s glove and the ground. Now Akira can really see that it’s way too much, because Ryuji keeps going in his hand, shooting off pulse after pulse until he’s left completely boneless.

His head feels… clear. Maybe too clear, because now he’s left to wonder what to do about his dick shoved half up into Ryuji. He pulls out with a slick, sucking noise and god, he really did come a freakish amount too, and he mentally apologizes to Ryuji for it. Even moving that much back makes a stab of heat pulse down from his head all over again and Akira seriously might not survive doing this a second time, so it’s now or never to finish this. When he stands up the darkness starts to creep back in, but he pushes through it, taking advantage of the brief moment of lucidity to gather up all the rest of the scrolls he can see. He throws in the last one he’s able to find and abruptly the clouding in his brain dissipates, sending Akira to his knees in relief. His erection has already come back at full force, but he thinks he’ll try and ignore it this time. 

Ryuji kindly ignores it too when he finally raises his head back up. “You good, man?” His vocal cords sound almost a little strained now.

“Yeah, about as much as I can be considering... all this. You okay?”

“ _No._ I’ve got your jizz gluin’ all this sand to my ass now,” he whines, and Akira feels instantly, infinitely more embarrassed. “Can a shower and fresh undies even fix this? ‘Cause I feel gross as hell in places I don’t think I can even reach.”

“Sorry.” Akira frowns. “If it helps, I’ll tell everyone you just got massive ass sweat. They’d totally believe it.”

“Very funny, asshole.” But Ryuji kind of smiles like he does think it’s funny, and Akira lets himself laugh about it too. For uncontrollably screwing each other not a few minutes earlier, he feels like they might actually be doing okay. “Then I’ll just tell ‘em you’re here with this big hard-on over it.”

“ _That’s_ gross. And it’ll be long gone by the time we get out of here. Come on, let’s get up.”

It is, in fact, not gone by the time they all reunite, and Akira forgoes any attempts at explanation in lieu of stealing his Goho-Ms back from Morgana and announcing that everyone’s going home for the day. They can try again tomorrow; Futaba’s still waiting on them, after all.

Akira can’t even _imagine_ what her calling card will look like.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to remind you how awesome y’all are for reading my stuff and being so positive about it! Writing fic is a total pick-me-up after getting my ass kicked at work and school so it makes me the happiest little stupid porn writer to see that other people like it too. So thank you again, seriously.


End file.
